Someone Else's Blogger
by Eligrl77
Summary: John wakes up in an alternate world. Sherlock is a woman, Baker Street is in Philadelphia, USA, and John is deeply confused.
1. Chapter 1

John Watson was very startled when he woke up from a rather long nap. He had fallen asleep on the couch. Sherlock and he had just solved a very long and bizarre case. Always seemed like usual business to him. Sherlock had been playing violin and John couldn't keep his eyes open. His eyes wearily looked around and found many things looked very different. This sure didn't look anything like the 221B he lived in. Gone was the bullet holed smiley face, dark wallpaper, and endless amounts of papers scattered on the floor. The room had wooden walls. The fireplace was marble and didn't have a skull anywhere to be found. A few wooden baskets lined the walls. The couch cushions were in a plaid color. The carpet was a light orange. A Roland keyboard sat at the other end of the room. John at first thought he was dreaming, reassuring himself this was all a figment of his imagination. Then he saw a young lady walk in.

She had to have looked in her mid twenties, judging her appearance. She was wearing pink PJ pants and a green dotted robe. It looked like she hadn't been up long, judging her messy brown hair. She yawned and stared at John.

"We really do need another case. I get so bored when there isn't any crime going on," she stretched her arms and plopped herself down on the armchair.

"Where the hell am I?" John looked around, more awake and more confused.

"John, we're in 221B Baker Street… Philadelphia, PA? Where else did you think we were?" she looked puzzled in his eyes. "I'm Sharon Holmes. Did you hurt yourself when we were chasing that pimp down? I knew you had to be lying judging by that mark on your head and you are a doctor," she sighed.

"Where is Mrs. Hudson?"

"Mrs. Hudson? There's no such person that lives here John. My mom owns our house remember? She is letting you rent a room in it."

"But I live in an apartment with Sherlock Holmes in London! This isn't right at all!"

"Who the heck is Sherlock? That is a strange ass name. Is that like a flower or something?" Sharon laughed as she went into the kitchen to get a handful of Coke a Cola cans.

"He is actually a very intelligent person Sharon. Are you his sister?"

"Um… John you know I don't have a brother. I do have a sister named Melissa that I can't stand at all. She is the US government. She has a minor position in Senate? Can't stop eating Twinkies? John, we should take you to the hospital. Your memory is clearly shot to hell and you are scaring me!"

"Are you a consulting detective?"

"Yes John. I invented the job!"

"I have no idea where I am or why Sherlock turned into a woman," he said quietly looking around.

"Alright, that's it. Jefferson hospital with you once we both get dressed," she sighed and as she headed for the upstairs she yelled to him "Your room is to the right if you remember that at least." John got up from the couch and followed Sharon upstairs. His bedroom looked just the same. His fleece jumper hanging idly waiting for him, as did his other clothes. As he came downstairs, he saw Sharon. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She wore a ruffled purple shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers.

"Come on John! They are expecting you! I had Melissa move you up in priority," she grinned as she grabbed her long black coat and blue scarf. They walked down to the corner of the road as she hailed a taxi for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Sharon and John walked quietly back from the hospital after lunchtime. The doctors had checked him out and they had concluded his brain was fine. The doctors said he might be suffering from some PTSD regarding the case. So much so, it had affected his memory. She was a bit kinder to John afterwards in that regard. She bought John a hotdog at the stand near the hospital. They then walked to Washington Square Park and found a bench.

"Angelo gives me these hot dogs for free. I cleared his name in a case. Always pays to know a man with food," she smiled as John ate hungrily. "So do you have any idea where we are?"

"Not a thing," John replied.

"This is Washington Square Park. William Penn is buried here. I like to come here and think. The city always could use some more of them. Do you remember how we met John?"

John shook his head.

"Our mutual friend Michelle introduced us. She worked with you in the Afghanistan war? You needed a roommate and you didn't have a whole lot of money. You had a psychosomatic limp when I met you. Your brother Harry was too busy getting shitfaced all the time to help you. So I did."

"I have a brother?"

"Yes, the only relative you got. He lives in Kensington. A flea bag of an area indeed," she rolled her eyes.

"And where is our flat… I mean house?" John corrected himself.

"What's with all the British vocabulary? Do you watch too much Doctor Who?"

"I am British!"

"Well you are British, but you have been living abroad longer than you have been living there. Your accent has decreased a bit more each year. Gosh, I was so thrilled when we taught you the concept of what a hoagie was. Also, I have never seen you watch Doctor Who. Though you did like that Jeremy Kyle show. I still don't know what you see in him..."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Oh fuck no! I am probably a boyfriend's worst nightmare. Usually they are all unfaithful dumbasses anyway. I just need to look at their hands to know," she grimaced. "My relationship is always with my work John."

"Okay, so you are unattached like me," he chuckled and then sighed in memory. "Sherlock and I had the same conversation when we first met."

"I do like playing the piano when I think. I hope that won't bother you. And can you please not mention Sherlock he is not a real person…" Sharon was interrupted by a noise through her phone. It sounded like a classical minuet.

"Great news John, we have a case! I was just texted by Leanne. Another shooting in West Philadelphia! They sure know how to keep crime statistics up there. Let's go get ourselves a cab, as it is way too dangerous of a place to walk there," she got excited and grabbed John's hand. John was reminded how pale and cold Sherlock's skin always was. He felt that same feeling as she held his hand as they walked to the corner to hail a cab down to the crime scene.


	3. Chapter 3

The scene was grim as they pulled up. Endless amounts of people crying. It has happened near a small church, with a small cross sign hung above. He could tell this was a very poor neighborhood by the housing. It looked like any of these houses could cave in any minute. Blood covered the left sidewalk. The body had a white sheet covered and was still lying on the sidewalk as the police took photos. The bullets were numbered down the street.

"Hello once more freak!" yelled one of the members of the investigation at Sharon.

"Hello to yourself Sam. Still fucking Annie? From the looks of her legs looked like she is wearing your floor. You know she has a husband right?" she bit back.

"And you bought your ever loving groupie with you," Sam tried eyeing her down.

"He's my blogger actually. And why don't you do your job and shut the fuck up, okay?" she replied as he angrily walked away.

"I take it you are familiar with this kind of banter John."

"Unfortunately," John said as Leann quickly came around the corner.

"Hello Sharon and John. We have here a minister Rev. Joseph Callahan of Saint Michael's Baptist Church. We thought it was a drive by shooting based by where he is laid. He was a much loved community member on this block. The bullets hit his head, heart, and hip. Someone really took time to do him in. This had to have been more than two people who caused this, since someone had to be behind the wheel. And the marks are very accurate. We think he was using an automatic handgun, judging from the bullets," Leann added as Sharon looked closely at the body. Sharon was basically to John a female Sherlock. They were of the same mind and ways of seeing a crime scene.

"Did he have any enemies Leann?"

"No one here I talked to claims he did. Everyone really liked him and he helped a lot of people out."

"John what do you see from looking at the body?" she asked John.

"Not even two hours old wound. Nicely dressed, so probably was going to do a service of some kind? The shooter had to have his hands shaking as where the bullets entered. He probably shot more shells than the man. Not a trained killer. Had to be a young person doing this," he shook his head.

"No surprise there John, as people get killed around here just going to church. Interview some of the people who worked in his church. I am sure there had to have been something going wrong behind the scenes," Sharon added to her deductions.

"Thanks for coming out you two. He'll be in the morgue in an hour or two. I'm sure you will find more information possibly," Leann patted Sharon's shoulder. Sharon was quick to hail a cab and get them off to the morgue. Ironically, it was right next to Jefferson's Hospital. John laughed to himself about how Sharon was able to use the system in that regard. John was able to borrow a laptop to research more about the church while Sharon looked through a microscope. A tall young man in a lab coat appeared.

"Here are some slides of the bullet residue found in the minister," he slowly gave them to Sharon. "I was also wondering too if we could um… have coffee together sometime," he scratched his mop top brown head and adjusted his thick rim glasses.

"I take it black with two sugars, thanks Morris," she smiled and then looked back into her microscope.

"Oh. Okay," he smiled awkwardly at Sharon and John.

"John forgets who you are. Apparently the doctors think he is has recurring PTSD from the last case. Why don't you introduce each other again?"

"Oh dear I am so sorry Sharon. Well I'm Morris Hooper. I run the morgue here. I've known Miss Sharon for five years and patiently waiting for her to know how much I…"

"I think that was enough of an introduction Morris. I need some quiet while I go into my mind palace. Don't forget that coffee," she grinned at Morris before he turned away in a huff.

"Reminds me of a relationship I know," John chuckled a little.

"I guess being at a morgue can do funny things with your brain. Are you finding any interesting information regarding the church John?"

"Yes in fact apparently they have a program at the church called Callahan gun removal. It's held weekly at the church. It says on the website it's for people getting rid of their guns to make the streets safer."

"Apparently he pissed off someone good with that idea. I'm looking at the bullet here and its shells are definitely not just an automatic. It was a Bordchardt C93 pistol. It's strange because this kind of gun hasn't been made since the 19th century. This more of an antique gun than a usual street weapon commonly used. Someone knew how to use the weapon, but was clumsy with the actual use of it. It is shown on the marks on Callahan's body. This is a strange one. Let's go back to Baker Street so I can think more about this," Sharon yawned and John followed her out to the hailed taxi.

"Actually let's hit Chinatown first. You are probably starving. You usually are," she said as their taxi went there. The city was bustling and the amount of lights for all the places blinded John. A bunch of rowdy teenagers were waiting outside the Trocodero Theatre nearby. Sharon looked at the billboard and grimaced.

"Dead Kennedys, such awful noise to subject one to listen to," Sharon snorted as they went into the Chinese takeout next door.

"Well what do you listen to?" John asked after he gave the young girl behind the counter their order.

"Mainly WRTI 90.1, always have good music and news about crime," she smiled as they waited his order to be done. Once John paid (luckily an even 10 since he didn't know too much about American currency), it was back into the taxi and Baker Street.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dad I'm home," Sharon yelled as she closed the door behind them.

"Quit scratching my CDs!" he heard him loudly complain.

"I can't help it I scratch Yanni, your all time favorite musician ever," she rolled her eyes as she took off her coat. She hung it on the mantle and plopped down on the couch.

"You haven't eaten anything haven't you?" John asked.

"I don't eat when I am thinking. In these cases, I drink soda. This is a three Coke problem!" she replied as she got the cans out of the fridge. She found a 711 big gulp cup in the cupboard and poured all the drinks into that. John ate his food while she did this and played Debussy on the keyboard. She at least didn't make the piano croak while Sherlock would on his violin. While his pieces were painful and tedious, hers were pastoral and happy. Quite an opposite to what he was use to. After he was done, she was still playing her keyboard. John yawned and tried to get comfortable and fell asleep once more. He woke up with Sherlock poking him on the shoulder with his violin bow.

"John you have slept all day! I was making sure you hadn't died," he complained.

"Sorry I guess I was stuck in a strange dream Sherlock," he stretched his limbs. Everything was as it was before. "I did like you as an American young woman." He didn't bother to look at Sherlock's reaction as he got his coat.


End file.
